WE'VE GONE BACK IN CUNTING TIME
After a nights revelry at a friend’s party in the arse end of London, my friend and I started the epic journey back to New Cross, which involved getting to Victoria and getting a bendy bus home. The sun is coming up and we're a little worse for wear, but we somehow manage to get on the right bus, and collapse on two seats facing an empty row. After about ten seconds we both promptly pass out.

The bus heads out from the station and makes its way through the city, over the river, past our lovely beds and to the end destination (Deptford, as you ask). We sleep throughout. Oblivious to us the bus changes drivers and starts back on its journey to Victoria.

I eventually wake from my slumber, wipe the drool from my face and rub my kohl-caked eyes and wonder why we are almost back where we started, but going in the wrong direction. I try to be eloquent in the matter but I am drunk and confused and instead start violently prodding my mate and screaming "BEC! BEC! WE'VE GONE BACK IN CUNTING TIME GET OFF THE FUCKING BUS OH SHIT". She wakes up screaming, together we scream and swear and jump up and ding the fucking bell and stumble about in our groggy states, both of us looking like mad-haired, raped-and-dragged-through-a-bush-drag-queen-banshees. It is then that I look at the once empty seats in front of me.

It is a Sunday, and there sitting opposite us is the perfect family unit dressed for church, in their Sunday best. They are wearing colour-coordinated outfits for fuck’s sake.

I'll never forget the look in the children’s terrified eyes.
( fannycradock, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 15:58, 1 reply)

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That was...



beautiful.
(DarkSol, Thu 25 Jun 2009, 16:02, closed)